Stripped to the skin this provoker Bill was the one to wear swimming trunks

nudebeachsI Met My Future Husband on a Nude Beach It all started when I went to spend my vacations in Bulgaria with my friend Emily and her husband Bill. It was the third year running that we spent our vacations in Nesebre and that year we decided to continue with this well established tradition.
We put up in a small but comfortable hotel and that very day we were all ready to enjoy the seaside air and sun. The days were flying swiftly as it is the usual way the days pass when one is having vacations and one of these days we decided to change the usual way in which we were spending our time, so we hit it off and made it to the nude beach in which Nesebr was quite abundant. Here I ought to say that we planned visiting one of the nude beaches of Nesebr before actually going there. The fact was that we had seen some of them during our previous stays in Bulgaria before. Plus back at home we saw a TV reportage about nudists which made us firmly decide on sunbathing nude during our next vacation. Back then this experience looked something as exotic as a hang glider tour or parachute jumping for us. But it happened so that my friend Emily and I were the ones to put forward the idea and Bill was the one to put up with our whims, so it was hardly an enjoyable experience for him.
And so we went to the nude beach, Emily, Bill who was still sulky, and me, all eager to impress all the nude beachers with my feeling at ease while sunbathing nude and hoping that my body was also rather impressive. When we finally got to the beach of one of the hotels we saw many German folks who are known fans of nude beaching and suddenly felt something like retarded cowardice. Of course we didn’t feel like people there were dangerous in some way, but we clearly felt that the pangs of conscience and chastity restraints were still strong in us. All in all, dreaming of a nude beach with your friend while sipping coffee in her kitchen was one thing, and the final getting to this very beach was quite another. And the very moment when we were ready to turn our backs on the beach Bill called us faint-hearted cowards which stimulated the flow of feministic fluids in us that made us ten times bolder and determined.
When we finally chose a rather deserted spot on the beach and stripped to the skin this provoker Bill was the one to wear swimming trunks. The first half an hour we were still under impression of our own nerve, but having noticed that if our act of braveness had not passed unnoticed it had surely been underestimated, we decided to turn to something more provocative. There was a group of beachers playing volleyball at a distance, and presently we decided to join them. Bill who was surely the laziest member of our company was left behind. Maybe I should mention that it was my first-time-ever volleyball play, and even when I managed to hit the ball it followed such strange trajectories that the only face I felt worth wearing was that of an A-class volleyball player who had little inclination to minding the appraisal of such lame volleyball amateurs. We had been enjoying our attempts to dodge the ball by jumping and stamping the sand for some quarter of an hour before I tool Emily aside to share the impressions.
Emily was flushed and wore a bright smile on her face; she had managed to share her emotions about the hole experience by the time I was about to express my solidarity with her, but the next moment I felt something hit me rather painfully on the back of my head; after that the idea which had almost formed itself in my mind had gone somewhat blurred and obscured and somehow lost its topicality. It was a ball accidentally tossed by a volleyball player that hit me on the back of my thinking head. All in all, I was not put in much pain and had it not been for the singularity of the situation I would have laughed at it. But the situation was far too uncommon, so I thought the better of it and made a thoroughly theatrical scene out of it. I rolled up my eyes and leaned on my friend for everyone to see that I was suffering the deepest agony that threatened to further develop into a loss of consciousness. I was definitely a success while playing my role of an innocent victim as my friend suggested me sitting down, beckoning Bill at the same time. But the culprit of the accidental collision of the ball and my styled hair was the first to arrive. I should say that the terrorist looked quite attractive even to my rather delicate taste.
He must have guessed that we were from the States by Emily’s animated exclamations he tried to smooth the situation over in his broken English trying now to say he was sorry and now to tell some awkward jokes. In a word, the first favorable impression he made on me was now backed by his embarrassment and I started showing the first feeble signs of life. As we very soon got to know, Gunter, the young man who was our new acquaintance, spoke English a bit for he worked in NYC in one of his company’s affiliates. He was feeling very awkward with the whole situation indeed, and after a number of formalities proper in such cases he left the scene, all in sackcloth and ashes after he heard that I was perfectly safe.
After this accident the events developed in accordance with a scenario of a happy holiday time love affair. In the morning I found a bouquet of flowers on the windowsill of my hotel room and then… but this is quite another story that has little to do with nudism. The only drawback of this story is that now when our friends ask us where we first met we have to say something laconic like – well, we met on the beach. After all, who needs those zesty details?

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *